


FMK

by fictionallemons



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Banter, Ethan doesn't get pop culture, First Kiss, First Time, Flirting, Fluff, Fuck Marry Kill, Games, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Hotel Sex, M/M, Post-Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation (2015), Sleep Deprivation, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 23:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18670423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionallemons/pseuds/fictionallemons
Summary: Exhausted post-mission, the team plays Fuck, Marry, Kill with interesting results. Set vaguely post Rogue Nation.





	FMK

Benji wipes the grit from his eyes as the team tumbles, dusty and tired, into the truck stop diner in the middle of nowhere Texas. They'd been on the trail of an alternate energy magnate who turned out to be funding his operations with illegal arms trading. The mission had concluded with a 30-hour stakeout and a nail-bitingly close situation involving lasers, a bomb Benji had rigged out of household items, and the lot of them nearly being attacked by a pack of coyotes. Don't ask.

"I could eat a horse," Will declares as they all scoot into a semi-circular booth.

Jane, sitting on one end, studies the menu for all of fifteen seconds before she announces, "Burger. Fries. Cherry Coke."

"Classic, Jane. Same," Will says on her left. "What about you?" He nudges Benji sitting next to him.

"Uh. Yeah. Burger sounds good." Benji says. He's so tired he can barely keep his eyes open, but food does sound good. He only half pays attention as the server comes around and takes their order.

Ethan, on the other side of him, orders a Cobb salad. Weirdo. It's all Benji can do to avoid leaning his head on Ethan's warm, inviting shoulder for a little rest before their meals arrive. It wouldn't have been the first time he's given in to the urge to sleep on his friend, but he always worries it's too revealing. Instead, he chugs his water. The icy temperature perks him up a bit.

"I'm so hungry," Will groans.

"We know, okay? We're all hungry," Jane's voice is testy. "Let's do something to get your mind off it."

"Like?" Will asks.

"Let's play a game," she suggests.

"What, like poker?" Will says skeptically.

"If you happen to have a pack of cards on you, then yeah, poker would work," Jane says dryly. "No, I was thinking something like—Never Have I Ever."

"No drinking games," Ethan says. "I'm not dealing with any hangovers in the morning." Benji's glad Ethan's put his foot down. The last time he played Never Have I Ever, he'd almost gotten alcohol poisoning. He's had a full life.

"You're no fun," Jane complains, but with a smile. "How about Kiss, Marry, Kill?"

"That's fun," Will says. "If you're thirteen."

"What's Kiss, Marry, Kill?" Ethan asks. "It sounds violent."

Benji laughs. "It's all hypothetical, Ethan, don't worry."

"You say three names and you have to decide which one you'd kiss, and I'm using kiss as a euphemism, which you'd marry and which you'd kill," Jane says. "Will, I'll start you off easy: Scarlett Johansen, Zoe Kravitz, Emma Stone."

Will sighs, rolls his eyes, and then ticks off his fingers, "Marry Zoe, kill Scarlett, and kiss Emma." He puts air quotes around kiss.

"Interesting," Jane says. "I would have said the same, but probably for completely different reasons than you."

Benji glances at Ethan. He looks confused. "I don't think I get the point of this." Benji can't help but smile. Ethan doesn't usually end up hanging out with the team in the down moments. He doesn't know how silly Jane and Will can get when they're trying to kill time.

"Okay," Will points at Benji, "Let's do a classic: the Chrises—Hemsworth, Evans, Pine."

"Please." Benji grins. "Don't waste my time. Kiss Hemsworth, marry Pine, kill Evans."

"What, no way! Marry Evans, don't you think?" Will says.

"And then what, kill Captain Kirk? I couldn't do that," Benji says.

"Instead you're killing Captain America—much better," Will says sarcastically.

"He's made his choice, Will, he'll just have to live with it," Jane sighs.

Benji laughs, turns toward Ethan, who's just shaking his head. "Didn't know you were on a team of pop culture nerds, did you?"

"I thought William Shatner played Captain Kirk," Ethan says weakly. Benji wants to fold the poor man into his arms and tell him it's okay he checked out of pop culture in 1996.

"He did, Ethan. Your turn. Kiss, marry, kill—" Benji pauses, casts his mind about for references that Ethan might actually get. "Uh, Katherine Hepburn, Liz Taylor, Grace Kelly."

"Aren't they all dead?" Ethan asks. Will snorts. Jane rolls her eyes.

"Picture them at the height of their stardom," Benji says patiently.

Ethan frowns. "I guess…marry Liz Taylor. But wasn't she married like eight times? Not a great track record. Grace Kelly married a prince. That seems high maintenance. And I'm not sure I could handle Katherine Hepburn's drawl every day."

Benji joins Will and Jane in staring at Ethan. "Maybe you should just pass this round."

The food arrives at that moment, thankfully, and they all fall upon it, leaving no room to continue the game as they devour their meals. 

Benji shouldn't think Ethan's pop cultural illiteracy is so cute, but he does. He thinks everything about Ethan is cute. Even the fact that though he's eating his salad without dressing, he's stolen no fewer than five french fries from Benji's plate.

"I've got one for you," Will says to Jane when they've slowed down enough to breath between bites. "Agent Edition: Luther, Ethan, Benji."

Ethan chokes on a bite of hard boiled egg. "I thought the game was about celebrities."

"Sometimes it's fun to mix it up," Will says. "Come on, this game was your idea, Carter."

Jane huffs. "Fine. But let's swap Ethan out for you, Brandt. Makes it easy to decide who to kill. I'd kiss Luther and marry Benji, okay?"

"Hey, we have the same answers again," Will says.

"Wait, why would you marry me?" Benji asks. "Am I not hot enough to 'kiss?'" He's not actually mad. This game is dumb under the best of circumstances and none of them are at their best right now, though Benji feels ten times better after the hit of fat and protein. He no longer feels like he's going to fall asleep on Ethan's shoulder. He can probably make it the fifty yard walk from the diner to the motel next door under his own power.

"I still don't understand the premise," Ethan says. "If you're married to someone, you can kiss them whenever you want. Right?"

"Ethan, dear," Jane says patiently, "pretend every time we've said _kiss_ tonight, we meant _fuck_. You'd fuck someone you thought was hot, but couldn't see having a relationship with. You'd marry someone you might like to sleep with, but you'd have to spend every day with that person. In that context, wouldn't you rather marry Benji than fuck him?"

Benji feels his cheeks warming. There's something mortifying about Ethan being forced to consider any of these ridiculous hypothetical scenarios. He's about to break in and put a stop to the conjecture, when Ethan speaks. 

"We should have played Never Have I Ever."

There's a moment of silence, and then the four of them dissolve into laughter. Benji pushes away the juvenile disappointment that Ethan ducked the question and finishes his burger.

It's not long before they're going their separate ways for the night. A shower and a solid eight hours of sleep are all Benji's asking for, but it turns out that there are only three rooms left. Jane and Will call dibs, like the grown-ups they are. Benji groans, but Ethan says, "No worries. We can share." He actually is a grown-up, apparently.

The room has two beds, anyway, and it's not like they haven't spend nights in close quarters before. Ethan's probably the teammate he's most comfortable with by now. Personal space has actually been a non-issue for them since about the Vienna-Morocco-London period. Something about getting electrocuted and then Benji almost blowing up until Ethan paid a terrorist 50 million dollars to let him go brought them closer than Benji ever thought they'd be.

He's lucky to count Ethan as a friend. And he's utterly exhausted. So he doesn't think twice about starting to shed his clothes the moment they get into their room.

"What are you doing?" Ethan asks when Benji drops his t-shirt on the floor.

"Is it okay if I get the shower first?" Benji asks.

"Oh, right. Of course."

Benji grabs his sleep shirt and pajama pants from his overnight bag and goes to stand under the spray, washing off two days of Texas dust and dirt accumulation.

When he exits the bathroom some minutes later, scrubbed and yawning, Ethan's lying on the far bed, flipping through channels on the TV. The sound is off. He stops on what looks like a Marvel movie, full of beautiful people in brightly colored costumes, somehow averting and causing destruction in the same moment. Ethan turns on his side to face Benji as he climbs into his own bed.

"So am I lost cause?" he asks. Benji has to blink. Somehow, even road-weary and wearing the same clothes for the past two days, on an ugly plaid comforter that dates from the Reagan administration, Ethan still takes his breath away. A lock of hair falls across his forehead, and Benji's gaze slides up from Ethan's whisky warm eyes. He overcorrects by glancing down at Ethan's full, parted lips. With difficulty, he looks away entirely. He sighs.

"What, because the only thing on earth you aren't good at is stupid party games? No."

"That's not the only thing I'm not good at," Ethan says after a minute of watching the movie in silence. The Hulk is fighting with Thor gladiator-style in an arena. "But you're right. That game doesn't make any sense."

"It's just a lark." Benji feels slightly uncomfortable. All that talk about marrying Benji, etc. He supposes it wasn't very professional.

"I have to make split second decisions based on gut instinct all the time at work," Ethan goes on. Lighting bolts are shooting out of Thor's body. "I guess it's not much fun to do it in a game, especially when real people are involved."

"Yeah, sorry about that. Jane and Will can get a little carried away—"

"Besides," Ethan says, as if he hasn't heard Benji. His voice sounds faraway and his eyes are glued to the television screen. "I've been spending the last hour trying to figure out if I'd want to marry you or um, kiss you. I can't make up my mind."

Benji shakes his head. He can't have heard that right. Ethan doesn't mean…no…he's reached dangerous levels of exhaustion if he's imagining that Ethan's making some statement about Benji's attractiveness level.

"At first I understood what Jane and Will were saying. Of course, you'd be an amazing partner. Reliable. Supportive. Good sense of humor. The whole package, really." Ethan still isn't looking at him, so he can't see Benji's mouth drop open in shock. "But then… _damn_ …sometimes I look at you and I think—Benji's _fucking hot_. So yeah. This is really a Catch-22 situation right here."

Benji must have fallen asleep. He's dreaming. This is some kind of subconscious desire he's working through in his sleep. Maybe he passed out in the shower and he's going to jolt awake at any second. He blinks a few times. Thor and the Hulk are trading soundless quips.

"So, yeah, I'm really terrible at it." Ethan finally, finally, turns his head back in Benji's direction.

Benji swallows against his suddenly dry mouth. "At Kiss, Marry, Kill?"

"No. Flirting."

"Oh," Benji says faintly. "Well, I've seen worse," he says, mostly to make Ethan feel better, not because he actually has.

Ethan's laugh is hollow. "I'm tired, Benji."

Oh, that's what this is about. Ethan's delirious with exhaustion. He doesn't know what he's saying. Everything will go back to normal in the morning. "Yeah, me, too. Let's turn in, right?" Benji tries to shuffle beneath the plaid comforter, but Ethan's voice stops him.

"No. I'm tired of not being honest with you. Look at me, okay?"

Benji does as Ethan asks, because that's what he does. The older man's eyes are bright with something like…yearning?

"I think it means something that we're always together and we fall asleep on each other's shoulders and we save each others' lives and when you take off your shirt I want to—to consume you." Ethan's voice is shaded with exhaustion, yes, but also something Benji's afraid to put a name on. It sounds like—desire.

"What does it mean, then?" Benji makes himself ask through the lump of terrified hope in his throat.

"It means we're not friends, Benji. I thought that's what we were, all this time. But we're not."

"Oh?" Benji would have been devastated to hear that Ethan didn't think they were friends an hour ago. But he has a feeling that their relationship status is changing for the better.

Ethan moves deliberately from his bed to sit on the edge of Benji's. The ancient double bed squeaks as Ethan settles a foot away. "We've been having the world's record longest foreplay." His gaze is on Benji's mouth, his voice is a low growl. Benji's entire body tightens and vibrates as that growl plucks him like a guitar string. "And I'm ready to _kiss_ you, Benji." Ethan's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. "If you know what I mean."

Benji couldn't look away from Ethan's mouth if a bomb went off in the next room. He's not about to say no, but if Ethan's tired of not being honest, then so is Benji. "So you've decided, then. Kiss? Not Marry?" He says it lightly, but he needs to know how far Ethan's willing to go. He needs Ethan to know that this isn't just physical for him. This is the real thing.

"It really is a stupid game," Ethan says. "Because I want it all, Benji. I want everything. With you. If you'll have me."

In answer, Benji shuffles forward far enough to drop his forehead to Ethan's. He puts his hand over Ethan's on the covers and squeezes. "No more games," he whispers. "We won."

"Okay." Ethan breathes the word over Benji's mouth, and then they're kissing, soft. Benji's aware that part of him is cataloguing Ethan's taste, the shape of his lips, the softness of his mouth as it opens and gives way to Benji's surprisingly forward tongue. The rest of him is lost in a haze of endorphins and exhaustion. Kissing Ethan is a dream that he could live in for the rest of his life.

It doesn't matter that Benji's showered and Ethan's still sticky with the sweat and dust of the mission. He'd lick Ethan clean if he'd let him. They move from sitting to horizontal. Ethan's hands find their way under Benji's baggy sleep shirt, skim lightly over his sensitive nipples. Benji groans when Ethan settles his weight on him. The little hotel room suddenly feels very warm, the only light coming from the flickering television. Ethan kisses his way down Benji's neck, Benji's hands find themselves tangled in Ethan's feather soft hair.

If the last few years of their relationship have been foreplay, Ethan doesn't seem to be in any hurry to move them to the main event. Benji luxuriates in Ethan's strokes, in his mouth mapping Benji's body. Clothes come off in fits and starts. Benji buries his nose in the hair peeking out from under Ethan's overdeveloped bicep, breathes in his wholly male, wholly Ethan scent. The first searingly hot contact between Ethan's hand and Benji's bare cock makes him buck up involuntarily, hissing in pleasure.

Ethan pumps his fist around Benji expertly, but Benji pushes him away before he can come. They switch positions, Benji hovering over Ethan, kissing wetly across the ridges of muscle that represent Ethan's dedication to his craft, ghosting his tongue over the scars that bear witness to his sacrifices. He takes Ethan's thick, straining cock all the way to the root on the first try. He'd swallow the man whole if he could. Ethan grunts and moans with the effort of holding back as Benji takes him right to the brink, but no further.

Reluctantly, Benji releases him, feeling the loss of that musky, heavy weight on his tongue. He straddles Ethan's waist, melds their mouths together and their bodies slot together, fitting each other more perfectly than Benji had ever dreamed. With the help of hands to increase the friction, soon they shout through their mutual release. Come mingles, sticky and hot, between their flat stomachs. 

Benji collapses onto Ethan, and he starts to laugh.

"What's so funny?" Ethan asks, his voice shredded.

"I'm punch drunk," he says, then giggles. "May be the first time I've had sex while sleep deprived."

"I hope that doesn't mean you couldn't give consent," Ethan says, seriously, of course.

"Darling, I give my enthusiastic, unreserved, uninhibited consent for you to do whatever you bloody well like to me."

"Well. That clears that up." Ethan's finger traces a line from Benji's sternum to his navel. "And gives me a lot of food for thought."

"Does it?" Benji feels a buoyant happiness that has nothing to do with sleep deprivation and everything to do with imagining countless future nights in Ethan's bed, exploring the limits of what "everything" could entail.

Ethan lets out a huge, noisy yawn.

"You need a shower," Benji says, then yawns himself.

"Let me just rest my eyes for a minute," Ethan says. And even though they're filthy and naked on top of the ugly plaid comforter, the television still casting a blue glow over the room, that's how they fall asleep—entwined with each other, body, mind, and heart.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, as always, for reading and your feedback. <3


End file.
